


Atlantis: The lost Empire

by Butterkup



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Atlantis: The Lost Empire Fusion, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-29
Updated: 2015-01-20
Packaged: 2018-02-19 05:37:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2376764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Butterkup/pseuds/Butterkup
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A young adventurer named Isaac Lahey joins an intrepid group of explorers to find the mysterious lost continent of Atlantis.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Destruction

_"... In a single day and night of misfortune, the continent of Atlantis disappeared into the depths of the sea."_   
  
_\- Plato, 360 B.C._

* * *

  
  
It started on a day that was perfect. The ocean was wide and deep, colored a wonderful shade of deep cyan. The sky above was palest blue, skimmed by light fluffy clouds. It almost looked unreal, there was nothing to spoil the view, not even a bird...  
  
...until the flash.  
  
It was so bright it cast shadows on walls a hundred miles away. The clouds boiled and writhed and vanished. The earth trembled and quaked, and a mushroom of cloud smoke and flames filled the sky. Moments later, and armada of an Atlantean stone fish vehicles, swept across the waters.  
  
"You fool!" The lead pilot shouted to another, "You've destroyed us all!"  The pilots raced over the open sea, the wall of water was rising higher and higher.  
  
It's gaining!" cried another frantic pilot. "We have to warn the city!"  
  
The high bellowing scream of the pilots as the were being caught up in the wave and destroyed fell high as the armada raced toward its island home, the vehicles glowed as their engines strained at their upper limit.  
  
There was no way the armada would ever reach Atlantis' safely.  
   
Dark clouds swarmed overhead in the sky and the shadow of the wave began to creep over the city throwing it into darkness... except for a single glowing light high above the city.  
  
"Everyone to the shelters!"  
  
People screamed and ran through the streets as glowing vehicles crashed to the ground. The bright blue crystal, that normally hovered peacefully above the island, began to glow a darker until beams of red and black light shot out from its core.  
  
"Don't panic!"  
  
"One at a time!"  
  
As the Atlanteans ran for cover, the beams darted this way and that, scouring the city like searchlights.  
  
"This way your highness! Quickly!" one of the guards called to King and Queen, trying to usher them through the crowd and into the royal shelter.  
  
"Scott, come on!" Melissa said, pulling her son with her. Suddenly the tiny prince stopped and turned back the way they had come. He had dropped his teddy.  
  
"Scott, please!" the queen called, grabbing her son by the arm and bending down to Scott's eye level. "Just leave it! There's no time!"  
  
Suddenly, one of the onyx light illuminated Melissa. She stopped, frozen in her tracks. As her head turned upwards, the light turned back to its calming blue. The older woman's eyes turned silver. They seemed like tiny round mirrors, reflecting all they saw. Her face went blank. The tiny crystal around her neck glowed and pointed up to the glowing ball of light high above.  
  
All of the lights converged on her and then thinned down until they were as thin as her crystal necklace. Then there was a flash, Melissa's hair and robes flowed around her like she was underwater, as the light expanded again.  
  
Scott stared transfixed at the glowing light, until he felt a slight tug. Looking up he saw his mother being lifted into the sky by the bright lights. For a moment, as she rose, the queen kept her hold on Scott's arm, but the Crystal's pull was too strong. At last, the queen's hand slipped away, clasping Scott's tiny gold bracelet between her fingers.  
  
"Mother!" he cried, collapsing to his knees, he reached up for Melissa as she floated higher and higher towards the crystal.  "MOTHER!" he screamed, continuing to reach out for her, tears streaming from his eyes.  
  
Walls of bright light formed a dome of pure, shimmering energy and began forming at the edge of the city, creating an impenetrable barrier. Many people and made it through this barrier, but the shield closed and the remaining people were shut out. People pounded on the walls, trying desperately to gain entrance, but as the vast wall of water bore down upon them, the realized it would do no good.  
  
But there was nothing he or the king could do. As they looked on, a flurry of blue beams shot out from the Crystal's core. Quickly, the king gathered Scott into his arms and pressed the boy's head into his chest.  
  
"Close your eyes, Scott!" He yelled above the rushing of the air, and looked up at the spinning ball of light, at his wife.

The flash of light was incredible, the glowing blue dome began to sink into the ground. The wall of water crashed around it... swallowing it whole. Within seconds, there was no sign that the city had ever been there, hidden beneath an ocean of salt water and foam..


	2. Meet Isaac

Chapter 2: Meet Isaac  
  
Many hundreds of years have passed since that fateful day in Atlantis, and soon the kingdom was forgotten, spoken only about in legends and fairy tales. Soon everyone stopped believing in the lost empire.  
  
But every now and then, someone was born into the world... who still believed.  
  


* * *

  
  
"Good afternoon, gentlemen. First off, I'd like to thank this board for taking the time to hear my proposal." A young man spoke, He was tall and lanky with dirty blond hair which stuck up untidily at the tips. His name was Isaac Lahey.  
  
He stood in front of  the silhouettes of four, very official looking gentlemen who are facing a young man behind a desk standing beside a blackboard on which were written the words _'Coast of Ireland.'_  
  
Isaac cleared his throat. "Now, we have all heard of the legend of Atlantis; a continent somewhere in the mid-Atlantic ocean that was home to an incredibly advanced civilization that possessed technology far beyond any other that existed in the world at that time. According to Plato, Atlantis was suddenly struck by some cataclysmic event that sank it beneath the sea." On the word sea, he tapped the goldfish bowl next to him which contain a model of the Parthenon, frighting the poor creature inside. "Now some of you may ask, Atlantis? Why Atlantis? It's just a myth isn't it? Pure fantasy?" At this Isaac gave an all knowing smile. "Well that is where you would be wrong."  
  
The blue eyed man then grabbed a small remote, and pointed it towards the overhead screen, clicking one of the buttons, the screen now showed a picture of the Egyptian pyramids and the Sphinx.  
  
 "Ten thousand years before the Egyptians built the pyramids," Isaac said, tapping the screen with his finger, "Atlantis had electricity!" He pressed the button again, the screen now a picture of an Egyptian painting. On top of a strange contraption in the middle of the painting was a white circle from which many lines were radiating, looking very much like a light bulb.  
  
"They had advanced medicine."  
  
The next slide showed a scroll in the center of which was a figure almost exactly like the one from Da Vinci's anatomical drawings.  
  
"They even had the power of flight!"  
  
The next slide had a carving of a man in the center of a circle with an arrow pointing to the left of the card and two smaller arrows on the other side of the circle both pointing to the right. Quite clearly, it was some form of transportation.  
  
"Impossible you say, well no," Isaac said, waggling his finger knowingly, "Not for them."  
  
The next few slides all varied in origin point and time period, but they all seemed to show some sort of circular shape emitting light.  
  
"Numerous cultures all across the world agree that Atlantis possessed a power source of some kind, stronger than steel, more powerful than steam, than coal. More powerful than our modern internal combustion engines." Isaac straightened up and spoke loudly and clearly. "Gentlemen, I propose that we find Atlantis, find that power source, and bring it back to the surface."  
  
"Now" he continued, showing the slide card, "This is a page from an illuminated text that describes a book called the 'Shepard's Journal.'" The slide showed a yellowing page that contained a picture of a man holding a book. "It is said to have been a first-hand account of Atlantis and its exact whereabouts."  
  
Putting down the and crossed over to his chalk-board.  
  
"Now, based on a centuries old translation of Norse text, historians believe that the journal resides in Ireland," Isaac said, tapping the word 'Ireland' with a piece of chalk he was holding. "But," he continued, picking up a very heavy piece of armourment, "After... comparing the text... to the runes on this... Viking shield..." He had to briefly stop here to readjust the shield in his arms. Once he did so, he could finally speak clearly again. "I found that... that one of the letters had been mistranslated."  
  
"So, by erasing this letter and inserting the correct one, we find that the Shepard's Journal, the key to Atlantis lies not in Ireland gentlemen," Isaac continued, raising his sleeve to the 'r' of the word 'Ireland' and rubbing it out slowly, he raised the chalk to the space where the 'r' used to be and wrote another letter in it's place which changed Ireland to "... but in Iceland."  
  
"Pause for effect" Isaac thought to himself. He then put the shield onto the ground where it rattled for a moment before settling down. "Now then gentlemen," The blond said, dusting himself down, "I'll take your questions."  
  
Suddenly, the phone rang. "Umm, excuse me please," Isaac asked nervously, leaping over onto the chalkboard which instantly flipped over backwards until it hit the desk.  
  
"Cartography and linguistics department, Isaac Lahey speaking. How may I help you?" A very angry voice echoed down the phone at him, Isaac's smiled slid off his face like honey. "Yeah, yeah, I'm on it." He put the receiver down, slid off the board, which flipped over and now showed a map and switched on the light, and walked past the members of the board... all of whom were models.  
  
Reaching the boiler at the back of the room, the blond sighed, turning a few of the wheels on the boiler's side. With a high-pitched squeak, the boiler gave a rumble before Isaac hit it with a spanner.  
  
 _CLANG!_  
  
 _HISS!_  
  
The boiler burst into life.  
  
Heading back to the chalk-board, he clambered back over it  and picked up the phone once more. "How's that? Is that better?" Isaac waited as the other person spoke, saucily. "Okay. Bye." Scowling a little, the tall male put the receiver down.  
  
"Now," he continued, sliding back off the chalk-board. , "As you can see from this m-..." He stared at the map realizing that there was a big, Isaac-shaped patch on the chalk. Looking down at his front, he saw that the missing part of the map had been imprinted on his midriff. He smiled nervously. He held his body up against the board. "... map that I've drawn, I've plotted the route that"ll take me and a crew across the southern coast of Iceland to retrieve the journal."  
  
Just then, the clock in the corner of the room chimed.  
  
"Showtime," Isaac said dusting himself off, "I'm finally gonna get out of this god-forsaken dungeon." He gathered up some of his charts and headed over to the door. He paused halfway. He smiled at a small shrine he had made to his grandfather; Lenard. He picked up a small photograph. In the photo was toddler Isaac sitting on the knee a very tall man, with greying curly hair and dark blue eyes.  
  
Isaac's mind drifted back in time. He remembered that day, it was before his mother and brother had died and when his father was still a somewhat okay man. He had been spending the day at his Grandfather's and had asked the older man if he could wear his granddad's favorite adventuring hat. He had just smiled, eyes crinkling in amusement as he slid the hat from is head and put it on Isaac's. Isaac had smiled... and then the hat had slid over his eyes. His grandfather had only chuckled.  
  
A tear slid down Isaac's face at the memory. He wiped it away, gently laying the photo back down on his desk and opened the oaken box just behind it. Inside it was the same old hat that had belonged to his grandfather. He lifted it out and put it on his head. He smiled widely... and then the helmet slid over his eyes. Oh, well guess some things never change.  
  
There was a slight rattling at this point and a message popped out of the pneumatic tube in the corner of the room. Isaac raised an eyebrow nervously. He picked it up and read it.  
  
 _"Dear Mr. Lahey,_  
  
 _This is to inform you that your meeting today_  
  
 _has been moved up from 4:30 PM to 3:30 PM."_  
  
Isaac looked up at the clock. It read 4:16. "What?!" He gasped in horror. There was another rattling and another message appeared. Isaac snatched it up and read it fast.  
  
        _"Dear Mr. Lahey,_  
  
 _Due to your absence, the board has voted to_  
  
 _reject your proposal. Have a nice weekend,_  
  
 _Mr. Harris’ Office"_   
  
"THEY CAN'T DO THIS TO ME!" Isaac screamed.  
  



	3. Employer

In one of the upper levels of the museum, a group of five, snobbish-looking men strode out of the office and into the main corridor. "I swear that Lahey get's crazier every single day," The tall middle aged man with brown hair and glasses.  
  
"If I ever hear the word 'Atlantis' again, I'll walk in front of a speeding bus!" One of the men cackled,  
   
"I'll push you," laughed another, The entire group chuckled at this when...  
  
"MR. HARRIS!"  
  
 "Good lord, there he is!" One of the men yelled in horror, as a very angry Isaac charged up the corridor straight towards them, clutching several scrolls. He looked livid.  
  
"How did he find us?!" Mr. Harris , asked out loud. A scampering of feet made him turn only to notice that his fellow comrades had fled, each of them ran through one of the many doors that lined the corridor. Mr. Harris  pounded on the doors, desperate to be let in.  
  
"Mr. Harris, STOP," Isaac yelled. Mr. Harris  in a very pathetic attempt to hide jumped behind a small banana plant. "Sir?" Isaac said, pushing the leaves aside. Mr. Harris  smiled nervously and then hit him with his walking cane.  
  
Mr. Harris  ran as fast as he could through the corridors and across the main hall, his shoes clattering on the marble floor. Isaac skidded into the hall after him, dropping some of his papers. Mr. Harris  ran through the revolving doors, Isaac hot on his heels.  
  
Sprinting down the stairs Mr. Harris leapt into his car, but before he could order his chauffeur to drive book it, Isaac caught up with him. "MR. HARRIS, STOP!" Crash! Isaac smashed into the car door. As fast as he could, he thrust his charts into Harris ' arms and opened up a map. "As you can see from this map-"  
  
"THIS MUSEUM," Mr. Harris roared, "Funds scientific expeditions based on FACTS, not legends and folklore."  
  
He shoved the charts back into Isaac's arms. He then gave Isaac a rather unusual smile. "Besides, we need you here." He tugged Isaac close to him. He patted his cheek. "We depend on you." Isaac smiled hopefully.  
  
"You do?"  
  
"Of course," Harris said, smiling with perfect teeth, "What with winter coming that boiler's going to need a lot of attention."  
  
"BOILER!?"  
  
The car drove off and Isaac sprinted after him. "There's a journal... in Iceland! I'm sure of it this time!"  
  
"Will you just shut up!" Mr. Harris  said and closed the window.  
  
SMACK! Isaac leapt onto the front hood of the car. "Mr. Harris, I really hoped it wouldn't come to this, but..." he roared, tugging something out of his pocket, "this, is a letter of resignation. If you reject my proposAAAHHH!" It was at this point Isaac was flung off of the bonnet and onto the pavement beside the car. "I'LL QUIT!" Isaac bellowed at the retreating car... which promptly reversed. When his window was level with Isaac's face, Mr. Harris opened the window. "I.. mean it..." Isaac panted. He was rather breathless from being thrown onto the pavement so hard that it had knocked all of the air out of his body. "If you... refuse... to fund my proposal-"  
  
"You'll what?" Mr. Harris asked, "Flush your career down the lavatory just like your grandfather?" Harris looked down at Isaac with an almost pitying expression. "You have a lot of potential Isaac," he continued, "Don't throw it all away chasing fairy tales." He said this with imploring and almost pity in his voice.  
  
"But I can prove that Atlantis exists," Isaac pleaded. Harris 's brow furrowed and his voice turned hard again.  
  
"You want to go on an expedition?" he said reaching into his pockets, "Here." He tossed a few dollars into the blond's lap. "Take a bus to the Potomac and then jump in. Maybe the cold water will clear your head."  
  
The car drove off, driving through a puddle, causing the dirty water to splash all over Isaac. He sat there, wiping the hair out of his eyes. He lifted up his resignation letter. The soaked paper fell apart. Thunder rumbled overhead.  
  
"Fucking wonderful."

* * *

  
  
There was a rattle of metal and a creak as a door unlocked and opened. Isaac entered his apartment and closed the doors behind him. He always feels safe here, in this tiny little house with the threadbare rugs and the water stains on the walls. He flicked the light switch. Nothing happened.  
  
Or almost nothing.  
  
At the sound of the 'click', a figure shifted in the dark. The light from the street-lamp outside fell upon the curved figure of a woman.   
  
"Isaac James Lahey." she all but purrs, her voice sounded like silk and reminded Isaac of dark lounges with low saxophone music being played.  
  
Isaac stared, gaping in amazement. "Who the hell are you?" Isaac asked, stunned, "And how... how did you get in here?"  
  
There's a flash of lighting and Isaac is able to see her clearly, if only for a second. She was wearing a long shimmering black dress trimmed with gold. Around her neck was a dark silk scarf. Her grey eyes were framed by her long, wavy, blond hair. Her red lips formed into a smile.   
  
"I came down the chimney," she said, voice deep and sultry as she sat herself into a chair, crossing her legs and smiling. "Ho... ho... ho..."  
  
Isaac still didn't look impressed, as his sagging curls feel into his eyes. "That still doesn't tell me who you are?"   
  
“Now, now, Isaac, that’s no way to treat a lady.” She smirks leaning backwards and lowered her scarf. “My name is Kate Argent. I'm acting on behalf of my employer, who has a most intriguing proposition for you. Are you, by any chance, interested?"  
  
"Your employer? Who the hell is your employer?"  
  



	4. Mr. Deaton

The rain is still coming down hard when they head out to Kate’s car. They drive, accompanied by the torrential downpour and crashing thunder, until they reach a large wrought-iron gates. Looking up, Isaac saw a large, decorative 'D' at the crown of it, resting on top.  
  
As they drive through the gates, an embossed golden sign catches Isaac’s attention. 'Deaton', it reads. So, this guy’s name is Deaton? Explains the 'D', if nothing else, Isaac’s curiosity is rising more and more as they pull up the ridiculously long driveway to a house the size of the museum. They enter through the frosted glass doors and his jaw just about hits the floor.  
  
Dear God, it’s like the man literally bathes in money.  
  
Once the two were safely dry inside the vast mansion,  Isaac couldn't help but stare. A large fire was burning burned in a marble fireplace to the left and a chandelier hung from the ceiling. Massive tapestries and portraits hung on the walls. On the floor, a red carpet lead across the hall to a metal gate.  
  
Kate clears her throat impatiently, “This way please.” She strides along, not waiting for Isaac to catch up. “And don’t drip on the Caravaggio.” Isaac jumped out of his trance and quickly followed Kate across the hall.  
  
"Step lively, Mr. Deaton doesn't like to be left waiting." Kate calls from where she’s stopped at the elevator.  
  
Isaac enters the gated elevator, and Kate tugged on a lever. With a slight clanking, the lift began to descend. Kate turned to Isaac and began straightening his clothes and hair. "You will address him as 'Mr. Deaton' or 'Sir', you will stand unless asked to be seated, keep your sentences short and to the point. Are we clear?"  
  
Isaac gulped.  
  
With a slight jolt, the lift came to a halt and the doors swung open. Beyond was a vast, dim room. It was so high that it felt like it was at the bottom of a dark well. The whole of one wall was taken up by a massive fish-tank. On the opposite side of the office was a massive fireplace like the one above. In fact there were so many things that I haven"t the time to wright them all down.  
  
"And relax," Kate said, "He doesn't bite." There was a clank as the gate closed and the elevator rose out of site. "Often."  
  
 "Well that's comforting," Isaac said sarcastically to himself, stepping forward into the office. The room that he’s now stumbling through is massive. The ceiling is so far above that it’s hard to see, and shelves full of thousands upon thousands of books haphazardly line the walls. It’s dark, ominously so, and the statues cluttered around the room create sinister shapes.  
  
Suddenly though his jaw drops as he looked up at the portrait hanging above the mantelpiece.  
  
"Grandpa?"  
  
"Finest explorer I ever met," came a deep melodious voice. Turning, Isaac saw a rotund man with his legs crossed. "Alan Deaton. Pleasure to meet you Isaac." He offered his foot to Isaac who took it as if he was giving a handshake. There was a slight cracking. "Fancy joining me in a little yoga."  
  
"Umm... No thanks." Isaac said, watching the tanned skinned man cracking his back, "Did you really know my grandfather?"  
  
Mr. Deaton was now seated with his fingers in his ears and his feet on his head. "Oh yeah. Met old Lenard back in 1966. _UUNNGGHH!_ We were close friends 'til the end of his days. _MMMMM!" CRACK!_ "Even dragged me along for some of his loony expeditions. Mad as a bicycle he was. Spoke of you often."  
  
Isaac smiled uncomfortably. "Yeah funny thing, he never... um... he never... mentioned you."  
  
Mr. Deaton suddenly stood up on his hands. "Never would, he knew how much I liked my privacy." At this point his dressing gown fell down over his head revealing... actually let's not go there.  
  
Isaac sighed. "Mr. Deaton, can I ask why I'm h-"  
  
"Look on that table." Mr. Deaton instructed, grunting as he cracked his toes with his feet,     
  
Isaac looked up, on a side table next to one of the three sofas was a package wrapped in brown paper and held together by a line of string.  
  
On the paper, written in black ink was:  
  
 _"To Isaac_  
  
 _With all my love, Grandpa."_  
  
"It's... It's from my grandfather," Isaac said, looking over at Mr. Deaton in a confused manner. Mr. Deaton leapt off of his sofa and to his feet in one single elegant manoeuvre.  
  
"He brought that package to me years ago. He said that if anything happened to him then I should give it to you when you were ready." He paused. "Whatever that means."  
  
Isaac looked at the small rectangular package. He pulled back the paper to reveal...  
  
"No. It can't be." But it was. "It's the Shepard's Journal." It was unmistakable. The golden swirl in the center of the cover sealed the deal. Absolutely stunned, Isaac turned to Mr. Deaton who was pouring two glasses of wine, one for himself and one for Isaac.  
  
"Mr. Deaton," Isaac said, as Mr. Deaton downed one of the glasses of wine in a single gulp, "This journal is the very key to finding the lost city of Atlantis."  
  
To Isaac's surprise and extreme annoyance, Mr. Deaton laughed, a deep bellied laugh. "Hah! Atlantis! Ha ha ha ha!" He gulped down Isaac's glass of wine and then strode past Isaac to behind a changing screen. "I wasn't born yesterday son."  
  
"But," Isaac stuttered, "L-l-look here at all these co-ordinates and clues." A massive smile broke across his face. "It's all right here."  
  
"Still looks like gibberish to me," Mr. Deaton said poking his head out from behind the screen.  
  
"That's because it's been written in a dialect that no longer exists," Isaac explained.  
  
 "So it's useless."  
  
"No, no, just difficult. I've spent my entire life studying dead languages. It's not gibberish to me."  
  
"Ah, it's probably a fake."  
  
That comment struck Isaac hard in the heart. He slowly turned to face Mr. Deaton who was now wearing a elegant black suit, with a red bow-tie.  
  
"Mr. Deaton," Isaac said dangerously calm, "My grandpa would have known if this were a fake. I would know. I will stake everything I own, everything that I believe in that this. Is. The. Genuine. Shepard's. Journal."  
  
"Alright," Mr. Deaton said, taking a seat at the table next to the aquarium, seeming rather unfazed by Isaac's tone of voice. "What are you gonna go with it?"  
  
 "Well," Isaac hesitated, "I-I'll get funding, I'll... the museum-"  
  
 "-will never believe you," Mr. Deaton finished.  
  
 "I'll show them, I'll make them believe."  
  
Mr. Deaton smiled, a scornful smile. "Like you did today?"  
  
"YES," Isaac yelled, "I mean NO, I mean... how did you even... NEVER MIND!" His voice had risen to a roar. " _I WILL FIND ATLANTIS BY MYSELF, IF I HAVE TO RENT A ROWBOAT, IF I HAVE TO SWIM TO THE DEPTHS OF THE MARIANAS TRENCH ITSELF, IF I HAVE TO..._ " He stopped. Mr. Deaton was still smiling at him, but this smile was triumphant. Even the fish in the aquarium seemed to be staring at him.  
  
"Congratulations, Isaac, that was EXACTLY what I wanted to hear, but forget the rowboat sonny." Mr. Deaton said, reaching across and flicked up a small lid, exposing a small button. He pressed it. The table opened and a platform rose up. On it were models of an astounding array of machinery, the most impressive of all being the long submarine with the orange globe as a viewing port. Isaac gaped. "It's all been arranged," Mr. Deaton said proudly, as Isaac inspected a small model balloon which he obviously knew would be much bigger in real life.  
  
"But... But why?" Isaac asked. This entire experience has his head tied up in knots. He’s gone from confused, to scared, to elated, to really fucking confused.  
  
Mr. Deaton patted Isaac on the back. "For years, your granddad bent by ears with stories about that old book. Quite frankly, I didn't buy it for a second, so finally I got fed up and made a bet with the old coot." Isaac looked up from the table at this slur against his grandfather. Mr. Deaton strode around the room at he continued his speech. "I said, 'Lenard, If you ever find that so-called journal, not only will I finance the entire expedition, but I'll kiss you full on the mouth.'" He picked up a small photo and his smile faded a little. "Imagine my embarrassment when he found the damned thing." Isaac looked at the picture and had to suppress a laugh. In the photo it showed his grandfather holding the journal and looking like he was going to throw-up and Mr. Deaton with an expression of disgust as he wiped his lips furiously.  
  
Mr. Deaton replaced the photograph onto it's side table. His expression faded. He now looked a little despondent. "Now I know your grandfather's gone, Isaac," he said, waking over to the fireplace with the portrait of himself and Lenard over it, "God rest his soul, but Alan Deaton is a man who keeps his word no matter what." He suddenly brandished his staff at the painting, all despondency gone and shouted, "YOU HEAR THAT LENARD! I'M GOING TO THE AFTERLIFE. WITH A CLEAR CONSCIOUS BY THUNDER!" Mr. Deaton laughed a little, but the laugh quickly faded to be replaced by a deep sigh and a minute sob. Had Isaac been close enough, he would have seen a tiny tear slide down Mr. Deaton's face and splash to the floor.  
  
"Your grandpa was a great man. " Mr. Deaton said and his voice had a new quality. It was weaker than it had been. For the first time Mr. Deaton betrayed hint of vulnerability. "You probably don't realize just how great. Those bastards at the museum..." he suddenly snarled angrily, "They dragged him down! Made a laughing stock out of him."  Another tear slid down his face. "He died a broken man." Mr. Deaton looked imploringly at the painting. "If I could bring back just one shred of proof... that'd be enough for me... Ah Lenard."  
  
He suddenly turned on the spot. It was if he'd been reset. All traces of sadness and anger completely gone to be replaced by his usual jolly eagerness. "Well what are we standing around for?" he asked the room at large, "We've got a lot of work to do." He strode past Isaac, dragging him along with the wolf-shaped tip of his staff.  
  
"B-b-but," Isaac stammered, "But Mr. Deaton, in order to do what you're proposing, you're gonna need a crew. " Mr. Deaton slammed his down down onto the table, tripping up Isaac in the process.  
  
"Taken care of," he said unconcerned.  
  
"You'll need engineers and... and geologists," Isaac said from the floor.  
  
 "Got 'em all. Best of the best." Mr. Deaton spread some papers on the table. "Vernon Boyd: Geologist and excavator, quite man, but he knows how to get things done. Derek Hale: Demolitions expert. Busted him out of an French prison for this! Allison Argent: don't let her age fool you; this girl knows more about engines than you and I could even dream. They're the same crew that brought the Journal back."  
  
 "Where was it?" Isaac asked, leaping to his feet.  
  
 Mr. Deaton smiled and placed a photograph of a group of people down on the table. At the center of the photo was his grandfather holding the Shepard's Journal. "Iceland."  
  
"I KNEW IT!" Isaac roared  
  
"All we need now is an expert in gibberish," Mr. Deaton said, settling himself down into his chair at the head of the table, "So it's decision time Isaac: You can build on the foundation your grandfather left you... or you can go back to your boiler room.  
  
Isaac flopped down into a chair. "This is for real," he said, staring at the photograph.  
  
"Now you're catching on," Mr. Deaton said smiling.  
  
"Alright. Okay. I'll... I'll have to quite my job-"  
  
"It's done," Mr. Deaton interjected, "You resigned this afternoon." Isaac felt confused.  
  
"I did?"  
  
"Yep, don't like to leave lose ends."  
  
"M-my apartment, I'll need to give notice-"  
  
"Taken care of."  
  
"My clothes?"  
  
"Packed."  
  
"My books?"  
  
"In storage."  
  
"My... my... oh my god." Isaac slid down his chair, still stunned.  
  
Mr. Deaton smiled kindly and got to his feet. "Your grandfather always had a saying: Our lives are remembered by the gifts we leave our children." He walked over to Isaac and held out the Shepard's Journal. "This book is his gift to you Isaac." Isaac took the book and simply stared at the gleaming golden swirl on the front cover. Isaac looked up at Mr. Deaton who now stood in front of him, holding the blond's leather jacket.  "Atlantis is waiting. What do you say?"  
  
Isaac smiled like a madman.  
  
"I'M YOUR MAN MR. DEATON!" he roared, snatching the jacket of out Mr. Deaton's hands, "YOU WILL NOT REGRET THIS!" Isaac seemed in such a rush of excitement, he wasn't even able to get his other arm through the jacket's sleeve. "WHY, I'M SO EXCITED Y-Y-YOU HAVE JUST NO IDEA!"  



	5. Into the depths

**"Attention: All hands to the launch bay."** A bored male voice sounded over the loudspeaker echoing throughout the launch bay,. **"And please and to whoever took the 'L' from the 'Motor Pool' sign, we are all very amused."**  
  
Isaac hoisted his satchel over his shoulder and entered the main ship. Because apparently it was necessary to take a metal death trap in order to get to yet another metal death trap. Isaac had almost backed out of the whole thing when he had heard that. He gazed around at the vehicles and crates, there were sparks as alterations were being made to the many mechanisms. There were clinks and clatters as machinery was being transported to the different levels of the ship.

Turning, Isaac felt confused. He had literally no idea who to talk to, or where to go, seeing that he'd never been on a boat this large in his _entire_ _life!_ But the woman in the lieutenant’s uniform seemed like a good bet.  
  
"Excuse me," Isaac said nervously, "I need to... um... report in?"  
  
 "Yes, Mr. Lahey." The figure turned to face him, only to reveal, Kate argent in all her blond glory.

"AAHH!" Isaac yelped, when he recognized the woman. "It's you!"

Kate just laughed, with an aura of superiority surrounding her. Holding her head up high, she merely smirked opening her mouth to speak when-

"Hey! Blondie! I've got a bone to pick with you!" Another tall vivacious blond woman, yelled, strutting towards them holding a cooler.  
  
"Hold on a minute Isaac," Kate sighs, again, as if she’d rather jump off the boat than talk to the other blond woman, and raises an eyebrow, “What is it this time, Erica?”  
  
"What pray tell, do you think _this_ is?" Erica asked, picking up a slab of red meat rapped in plastic wrap, from inside the cooler.  
  
" _That_ would be steak, Erica." Kate rolled her eyes again, tugging the meat from the others hands. "The men need their four basic food groups."  
  
"I've got your four basic food groups!" Erica said angrily, frown upturning her rather red lips and holding up her hand. "Soy, Tofu, Lettuce and Vodka!"  
  
**"Attention: All hands to the launch bay. Final loading in progress."** Another announcement blares through the ship.

"Alright Erica!" Kate ground her teeth angrily, shoving the steak back into the other blond's chest. "Pack it up and MOVE IT OUT!"  
  
Isaac follows the flow of people to a large elevator and tries to ignore the way his stomach jolts as they descend into the launch bay, the sheer number of people pressed up against him causing his old claustrophobia to start frantically clawing at him.

Taking a long deep breath, Isaac calms a bit, only for his jaw to drop to the floor once again when he steps out of the elevator. The submarine that hangs suspended from the ceiling is the most incredible thing that young man had ever seen. Yeah okay, so he saw the model when Mr. Deaton was first explaining the mission, but that doesn’t even compare to the awe-inspiring contraption currently holding his attention.  
  
Something slams Isaac hard in the back. Turning he saw a muscular man with jet black hair, and if Isaac could say so himself, beautiful green eye, pushing a trolley piled high with crates filled with explosives. After a second, Isaac recognized the man as Derek Hale from Mr. Deaton's staff list.  
  
"Yo, curly top," he said with a strong and deep voice, "If your lookin' for the pony rides, they're back there." He drawls, nodding his head behind him. And then he walks on, oblivious to the explosives he’s spilled at Isaac’s feet.  
  
“Uh, wait,” Isaac calls, “You uh- you dropped your... dynamite?" He questioned lifting up a stick of the explosive, hesitating slightly as Derek turns and comes back for the dynamite. Isaac cranes his neck, curious now, trying to get a good look at the seemingly random and dangerous objects in the green eyed man’s cart. "So um, What exactly have you got in there?"  
  
"Oh, um," Derek counted them off on his fingers, "Gunpowder, Trinitrotoluene, Nitrocellulose, Nitroglycerine, Acetone peroxide, Pentaerythritol tetranitrate, notepads, fuses, wicks, glue, and er... paper clips, big ones. Just you know, office supplies."  
  
"Isaac! Wherever have you been boy?" A voice attracted Isaac's attention at this point. Striding towards him was none other then Mr. Deaton who was standing next to a very large man in uniform. He was smiling as well, but his smile had none of Mr. Deatons warmth. It seemed rather cold and slightly cruel actually. “This here is Commander Gerard Argent,” Deaton claps a hand on the shoulder of the other man, “He lead the expedition that brought the Journal back from Iceland.”  
  
Gerard extended a hand and Isaac shook it. Isaac shivered. There was something about Commander Gerard that was unnerving.  
  
"Isaac Lahey," He says, as if testing how the words fit in his mouth, with a huge grin that the blond guesses was supposed to be charming. “It’s a pleasure to meet the grandson of old Lenard.” He notices the journal under Isaac’s arm and, nods opening his mouth to say, “Ah, I see you've got that old journal. Nice pictures, but I prefer a good Western, myself.  
   
“Pretty impressive, eh?” Mr. Deaton cuts, nodding toward the sub.  
  
"Well," Isaac began, staring at the massive submersible, as the last of the soldiers and cargo carriages were loaded onto the huge submarine "Man when you settle a bet, do you settle a bet."  
  
Deaton smiles. He looks off, almost wistfully, and says, “Your old grandad always believed that you could never put a price on the pursuit of knowledge.”  
  
Isaac grins and grips onto the journal just a little bit tighter. “Believe me, this’ll be small change compared to the value of what we’re going to learn on this trip.”  
  
“Yes," Commander Gerard smiles, if not slightly unnervingly, amber eyes glinting. "This should be enriching for all of us.” 

There’s a ping, and that male voice is pack on the PA, echoing through the launch bay. **"Attention all personnel: Launch will commence in 15 minutes."**  
  
Gerard sighed. "Well Mr. Deaton. It's time" he said curtly, bowing and then giving a salute and marching into the submersible.

Isaac took one last deep, shuddering breath. If only the goons at the museum...if only his father could see him now! Smiling slightly, The blond turned to the commander, who beckoned. With a much lighter heart, and spark of confidence, Isaac ran his fingers through his hair before darting up the ramp, turning round to Mr Clausen, the old Russian beaming at the younger man.

"Goodbye Mr. Deaton!" Isaac called over his shoulder as he followed Commander Gerard into the submarine, or as Isaac likes to call it. The Metal Death Trap.

"Make us proud boy!" Mr. Deaton called after him as the metallic bulkhead doors on the submarine clanged shut.

With a jolt, and metallic screech, the immense doors to the submarine began to close.

"Lieutenant, take her down," Commander Gerard commanded. The bridge was an immediate hive of activity, the preparations for the ship's descent began. Men and women in pristine uniforms dashed about, with a purpose and firm goal in mind. Wheels were turned. Steam jetted along pipes. A tense moment passed...before a large, echoing creak sounded. Then, with a further jolt, the submarine finally dropped to the water, steadily descending into the watery deep.

As they sink below the surface, Isaac feels a sort of calm descend over him. Each inch they climb down below the sea brings them that much closer to Atlantis. That much closer to what young male had been dreaming about ever since his grandfather started telling him stories of empires long since lost.

* * *

  
After several fumbling attempts to find his quarters, Isaac finally manages to find the small room he’d be sharing with a few others, which still wasn't helping with his claustrophobia.  
  
"Attention." The male voice rang again. **"Tonight's supper will be Baked Tofu. A musical program will follow."** There was a pause. **"Who the hell wrote this?"**  
  
Collapsing onto the closest unoccupied bunk, Isaac groaned, scrubbing a hand over his face. Planning expeditions was easy. This? Cavorting around a machine miles under the sea? This was exhausting. His eyes fluttered shut, because what’s the harm in one little nap?  
  
It didn't last.  
  
A light suddenly flashed at his eyes. Isaac awoke at once, sat up and whacked his head on the bunk above him. Looking at the light, he could see it was a flashlight being aimed at him by...  
  
A tall Hawaiian looking man, with short black hair and dark brown eyes, stood above him. He had a smile on his face and and a flashlight in his hand.  
  
"Uh..." Isaac hesitated, still not sure why there was a man standing above him, shining a flashlight in his eyes.  
  
"Hello." the man said, smiling broadly standing up and moving away from the blond "I'm Daniel Mahealani, the medical officer. But you can call me Danny."  
  
"Um... Hi?" Isaac stood, awkwardly, still confused. "I'm Isaac Lahey?"  
  
 "I know," Danny said, smiling widely, "You're my 3:00. No time like the present." At this he took a massive saw out of his doctor's bag.  
  
"Oh boy-"

"Nice, isn't it?!" Danny said, beaming toothily, "The catalog says that this little beauty can saw through a femur in 28 seconds. I'm bettin' I can cut that time in half." Danny put the saw back and took out a tongue depressor, a thermometer and a stethoscope which he put on. "Now, stick out your tongue and say 'AAHH!'"  
  
"Oh, no, really, I hav-AAHHH!"

 "So, where are you from?"  
  
"AAHH!"

"Really?" Danny switched the depressor with the thermometer and began listening to Isaac's heart with the stethoscope. "I have family up that way. Beautiful country up there. Do you do any fishing?"  
  
"MMHH!"

"Me? I hate fishing. I hate fish. Hate the taste, hate the smell, hate all them little bones." Danny checked a watch and then took two large beakers out of the bag. "Now, I'm gonna need you to fill these up."  
  
"WITH WHAT!" he yelled, spitting out the thermometer in horror. At this point, the PA system activated again.  
  
"Would Isaac Lahey please report to the bridge immediately."  
  
"Thank you god," Isaac whispered, turning to the door, "I mean, um, it was nice meeting you." He quickly waved to Danny and sprinted off, through the door and away.  
  
"Nice meeting you too," Danny called after him.

* * *

  
Amazingly it only takes Isaac a couple minutes to reach the bridge. Warily, the curly haired blond approaches the ladder and hauls himself up onto the platform.  
  
“Welcome to the bridge, Mr. Lahey,” Gerard thunders, because apparently this guy doesn’t know how to speak at a normal volume.  
  
Looking around, Isaac notices a small amount of staff including who Isaac recognized as Allison Argent, Derek Hale, Kate Argent, Vernon Boyd and Jackson Whittmore. There’s a projector, a surprisingly old fashioned thing considering the rest of the ship’s modern look, and he assumes that’s what he’ll be presenting with. It’s sitting on a rickety old table, and Isaac gets the idea that although he’s one of the most important people on this mission, he’s not exactly top priority.    
  
Commander Gerard cleared his throat curtly. "Ladies and gentlemen, I would like you to give Mr. Lahey your undivided attention."  
  
Isaac stepped forward nervously. "Well, um, okay, just so you all know, I'm really, bad a speeches... Sooo, um, lets just get this thing started." He plugs in his USB and takes a large gulp of air into his lungs for a moment before starting again.  
  
“Now,” he says, switching to the first slide, "This is the image of the so called _'Leviathan'_ that guards the entrance to Atlantis." An image of the monster fills the screen. It’s a crude drawing, but the shape of the thing seems to be almost lobster-like. It’s got large claws on either side, claws built for the destruction of bones and ships and anyone else who dares to intrude on its territory. It’s tail seems just as deadly, with a spike ready to impale anything necessary to defend its home.  
  
"With something like that, I would have white wine, I think." Derek said.  
  
"It's a mythical sea serpent."  Isaac continued "He's described in the Book of Joe. The... the Bible says... _'Out of his mouth go burning lights; sparks of fire shoot out.'_ but more likely it's a carving or a sculpture, to frighten the superstitious."  
  
"So then," Commander Gerard said, "We find this masterpiece, and then what?"  
  
"Go digging?" The stoic looking black man, Boyd, If Isaac remembered correctly, questions, arms crossed, showing off his rather, impressive muscles  
  
"Actually," Isaac said, switching off the projector and picking up a piece of charcoal, "We shouldn't have to dig at all." He turned to the blank screen and began to draw a diagram in time with his next lines.  
  
"According to the Shepard's Journal, the path to Atlantis should lead us down a tunnel at the bottom of the ocean and then we'll come up a curve into an air pocket right... here." He tapped with the charcoal. "And then we'll find the remnants of an ancient highway that'll lead us straight to Atlantis. It's sort of like a grease-trap in your sink."  
  
"Cartographer, linguist, plumber and reasonably cute," Kate counted the factors off on her fingers, "Hard to believe he's still single  
  
"Commander Gerard!" called a sailor, Parrish If Isaac could remember, from the helm, "I think you should take a look at this."  
  
"Very well then," Gerard said, turning on his heel. "Dismissed." He waved his hand over the assembled group. "Activate the exterior lights."

The massive lights of the submarine blasted through the inky depths, giving the rocky, underwater structures sinister shadows... and revealed a scene of total devastation.

No. It was the immense amount of shipwrecks strewn across the sandy ocean floor  
  
Hundreds of thousands of broken, sunken ships from every, torn up like old toys and tossed to the side, looking like skeletons in the eerie, exterior lights of the submarine, lay scattered across the sea floor. God only knows how deep down the ships extend, they could go for miles.  
  
 "Look at that," Kate said, in actual awe.  
  
One ship after another, Viking, Roman, Greek, Colonial, Victorian, even Pirate vessels were strewn everywhere all joining the watery grave.  
  
"There are ships here from every era," Isaac said, staring at all the different wrecks.  
  
They keep slowly heading through the cave, unable to take their eyes off the wreckage below.  
  
Jackson having already moved back to his station, begins screwing around with the instruments and then just stops. “Commander,” he says, with a staring at the hydrophone "I think you should hear this.”    
  
Meanwhile, Isaac had pulled out the Journal back out, trying to translate the passage that should guide them through. “Predeshtem logtu nug... nah geb.” Alright, fine, so maybe his pronunciation is a little bit rough. But who can blame him? It’s not like he’s ever heard the language spoken before.  
  
"-Commander"  
  
“Enter the lair of the Leviathan. There you will find the path to the gateway.”  
  
“Commander-” Jackson's interrupts, insistent.  
  
“Yes, Mr. Whittmore. What is it?” Gerard drawls, sounding bored.  
  
“I’m picking up something over the hydrophone, I think you should hear.”  He says, his eyes are squinted, in a thinking manner the headphones covering his ears.  
  
"Put it on the speakers."  
  
He flicks a switch and the noise fills the boat. And dear God, that noise. It’s deep, and sinister, hard, and even a little metallic. It just doesn't sound natural.  
  
Even Gerard looks concerned, although he manages to hide it with false bravado. “What is it, a pod of whales?”  
  
“No,” Jackson says, “Bigger.”  
  
“Sounds metallic,” Kate’s leaning over Jackson’s shoulder now. “It’s probably just an echo off of the rocks.” She reaches for the dials turning then a bit.  
  
“You wanna to do my job?" Jackson yawns, leaning back in his seat for the older woman to take over. "You be my guest.”  
  
Meanwhile, the noise is echoing around the ship, reverberating through their bones. “Is it just me, or is that getting louder?” Isaac asks, and then the noise abruptly cuts off. The silence is a sharp contrast to the screeching that was filling the ship previously, and everyone tenses for a minute before relaxing.

Kate looks smug. “Well, whatever it was, it’s gone no-”  
  
She’s interrupted by something huge crashing into the ship.

Screams rang through the bridge as Pitch was cut off...by something huge ramming into the submarine, abruptly jolting them all off of their feet.

...


	6. Chapter 6

 The alarms are blaring, the lights are flashing red, and Isaac’s trying really really hard not to think about the panic settling low in his gut. A great shudder ran through the entirety of the hulk of machinery, and people are falling over each other. making it difficult for them all to get back on their feet.

"Kate, tell Erica to melt the butter and break out the bibs. I want this lobster served up on a silver platter." Gereard commanded toawrds his daughter.  
  
"Load the torpedo bays! Subpod crews-" Kate calls out, and is immediately thrown against the railing. People scramble to their guns as she hauls herself up. “Battle stations!”  
  
Isaac’s watching everything in a daze, before the ship lurches once again and he’s thrown against the glass. His head is spinning, he can barely think, and when he opens his eyes he just about passes out. There’s a massive red eye staring at him. A couple seconds later and it hits him. It’s not an eye.  
  
"Holy shit! It’s a machine."  
  
"Launch subpods!" Gerard is shouting again, and the men are aiming the torpedos.  
  
"Subpods, away!"  
  
His order of “Fire!” has the Leviathan releasing the ship, and for a brief moment Isaac allows himself to hope that they’re in the clear.  
  
A quick look over his shoulder dashes that hope to pieces.  
  
"Fire Torpedoes!"  
  
There's another large slam to the ship and Isaac is tossed back against the ground, but  Allison’s voice rings clear over the intercom.  
  
 “ _GERARD_! We took a big hit down here and we’re taking on water fast. I don’t wanna be around when it hits the boilers."

He grimaces. “How much time do we have?”

"Twenty minutes, if the bulkhead holds.” There’s a crash, the sound of hissing gas and rushing water cuts off the engineer momentarily, causing each person on the bridge to swallow in an attempt to calm their nerves. "You better make that five."

“You heard the lady!” Gerard thunders, “Get a move on! All hands abandon ship!”

Frozen for a moment in shock and fear, the crew let a moment of silence pass before jumping into action. The entire ship descended into panic as those inside scrambled to secure their seat on the escape ships.   
  
A pre-recorded voice comes on over the intercom. **_“All hands abandon ship.”_**  


Stumbling, towards the escape pods, Isaac clutches the journal to his chest. The blond had bearly enough time to retrieve his coat and satchel before he was pulled away by Danny and lead through the labryinth of metal corridors that snaked through the interior of the ship, Hiccup swore he could _hear_ his own heart pounding, sweat beginning to collect on his forehead as the submarine shuddered and groaned, the occasional cry piercing the air.

**_“All hands abandon ship.”_**

The blond can feel himself being pushed into one of the pods by Danny, Allison and Erica close behind.

 Once in the pod, He, Danny, Allison and Erica are all buckled in on the side wall as Kate slams the door shut  and rushed to the helm. The sound of roaring waves, ringing sirens, and screaming people, are ever-present.

**_“All hands abandon ship.”_ **

Pushing against the big lever with all her might, Kate was desperate to get the escape underway. Just as it inched forward slightly, the submarine tilted, as muffled explosions were heard from the waters around them.

"LIEUTENANT!" Gerard shouted, preparing their co-ordinates.

"I'm working on it!" The blond woman snapped back.

Just as the claws of the Leviathan pierced the ship's metal hull, Kate was able to activate the lever, cursing, before breathing a sigh of relief as the escape ship began its descent into the darkened waters below, right before it gets hit with a beam of light.   
  
In their smaller pods, they manage to weave through the spaces in the cave that the Leviathan can’t reach, but there’s still gunfire behind them and he can tell that the other pods are having trouble.  
  
“There should be a crevice up ahead,” Isaac shouts, and Kate and Gerard crane their necks to look for it.  
  
“Right there!” Gerard yells back, “Twenty degrees down angle!”  
  
They turn quickly downwards, the other pods following behind them. And they go down. And down and down until Isaac’s sure they’ll reach the center of the earth. The fire from the Leviathan is still echoing in the tunnel behind them, and it clips the edges of the pods. Finally, the tunnel curves upwards again and they break the surface.  
  
They open the hatch of the escape pod and Isaac’s jaw drops. He honestly can’t believe what he’s seeing. Everything that’s just happened is forgotten as he stares ahead. The ruins of the gateway in front of him are proof of something he’s been searching for for the entirety of his adult life. They’re gorgeous, even in shambles, and he can’t wait to study them. And even then, this is just a gateway. He can see the path behind it, a dark, winding thing, and knows that for all the miles that the path stretches there will be hundreds of things just like this. They haven’t even reached the city yet and Isaac’s overwhelmed.  
  
But then he looks around. Twelve escape pods, carrying only a fraction of the submarine’s crew, has entered the tunnel. But only two had made it through.  



End file.
